


The Story of El-ahrairah and the Stranger in the Field

by Tanaqui



Category: Watership Down - Richard Adams
Genre: Gen, Mythology - Freeform, Rabbits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanaqui/pseuds/Tanaqui
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>El-ahrairah finds himself engaged in a battle of wits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story of El-ahrairah and the Stranger in the Field

**Author's Note:**

  * For [just_ann_now](https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_ann_now/gifts).



> Thanks to my usual beta for cheerleading and looking this over.

There will come to you a mighty man, a comrade who saves his friend—he is the  
mightiest in the land, he is strongest.... _The Epic of Gilgamesh_

After El-ahrairah received the Blessings of Frith, he went to live in the fields of Sumara. His wives and followers came with him, and they built a fine warren near a wood in the middle of the fields. The fields were thick with cowslips and vetch and clover, and many other things that were good to eat, as well as fine, sweet grass. Although the Thousand were now hunting the people of El-ahrairah, using the gifts Frith had given them, the fields were open, and the rabbits could see and smell and hear for a long way around. Some of El-ahrairah's people would guard the edge of the fields and warn the others if any _elil_ approached, thumping their strong back legs and flashing their white tails, and most of the rabbits would be safe underground by the time any enemies arrived. So the people of El-ahrairah went about the fields and in the wood as they pleased, eating and playing and mating in the sun.

One day, when El-ahrairah was sitting outside his hole, enjoying the last of the evening sun that had finally shown its face after rain showers all day, Prince Rainbow came walking through the fields.

"Ah, El-ahrairah." Prince Rainbow bowed to him when he saw him. "I see you have made good use of the Blessings of Frith to keep your people safe." He looked at the large number of rabbits out in the field nibbling at the grass and at the leaves of the wild flowers.

"Quite so, Prince Rainbow. My people and I have been Blessed indeed," El-ahrairah replied contentedly. "The Thousand have their own blessings also, of course, which is troublesome, but I do not think any of the Thousand is as blessed as any rabbit. It really is a very fine life we share here."

"That may be so, El-ahrairah." Prince Rainbow gave him another bow, but this time a mocking one. "But your rabbits do not only share the fields of Sumara with each other. They also share them with the fieldmice and the beetles and the bees. Oh, except that the bees tell me you do not share. They say your rabbits eat all the young cowslips and clover and vetch before they can flower, and so the bees can find no nectar."

El-ahrairah waved a paw unconcernedly. "What is that to me? If the Queen of the bees is not as clever as I am in arranging things to suit her people, why should that be my concern?"

Prince Rainbow saw then that El-ahrairah had not truly learned the lesson of Frith's Blessings, and that it would do no good to try to reason with him. Instead, he said carefully, "Are you saying that no other creature is as clever as you, oh Prince of the rabbits?"

El-ahrairah tried to look modest. "That may be so."

"Not even another rabbit?" Prince Rainbow asked, as if surprised.

El-ahrairah gave him an affronted look. "I am the Prince of my people, my lord. Does that not make me the cleverest?"

Prince Rainbow nodded. "I suppose it should. Well, good evening to you, El-ahrairah. This really has been a most interesting conversation." He walked on, leaving El-ahrairah to enjoy the last of the sun.

"Not the cleverest rabbit?" El-ahrairah muttered, watching him go. "Really!" And with that, El-ahrairah dismissed Prince Rainbow's visit and his words from his mind.

He certainly was not thinking about Prince Rainbow's visit a few days later when, in the fine early morning, he was enjoying nibbling at a particularly delectable patch of vetch. A group of young bucks approached him, scuffling their paws and looking so shifty that, for a moment, El-ahrairah wondered if there was some sickness spreading through the warren. 

After the silence had stretched out long enough that it looked as if none of them would say anything and El-ahrairah would be left to guess for himself what they wanted, the foremost buck spoke up. "Uh, my lord?"

El-ahrairah sat up and began combing his ears. "It's Sorrel, isn't it? What can I do for you?"

"Yes, sir." The rabbit glanced around at his companions as if seeking encouragement. He turned back to El-ahrairah. "You see, the thing is, sir, we're a little unhappy about not being allowed to eat any of the cowslips. Or the clover. Or," he gave a pointed look at the clump of vetch next to El-ahrairah, "the vetch."

"Not allowed?" El-ahrairah gave him a puzzled look. "Who says you're not allowed?"

Sorrel gave him an equally puzzled look back. "Why, you sir. Or, at least, that big rabbit that keeps coming around saying it's your orders we're not to eat any of the cowslips or the clover or the vetch or anything but grass, and cuffing us off them if we try."

" _My_ orders?" El-ahrairah gave Sorrel a sharp look.

"Yes, sir." Sorrel scuffled his paws again. "At least, that's what he's been saying, sir."

"Yes, well, I've given no such orders, and you can tell everybody I said _that_ , and eat all the cowslips you can find," El-ahrairah said firmly. "But, now, tell me about this other rabbit."

It turned out that nobody knew who the rabbit was: none of the bucks knew his name—but, then, the warren was getting so big that El-ahrairah was having trouble knowing every rabbit's name himself. There was nothing particularly distinctive about the strange rabbit, either: he was a good size and well fed and could clearly handle himself in a tussle. No one El-ahrairah asked about it, when he went round the warren later, knew who the rabbit was—though many knew about the so-called "orders from El-ahrairah" that he'd been giving, and El-ahrairah had to repeat many times that they were _not_ his orders. In the end, El-ahrairah decided it was just a rabbit who'd found a new and clever way to keep all the cowslips to himself and, perhaps, make himself important. 

For a few days, the warren settled back into its normal, peaceful routine: El-ahrairah and his people fed morning and evening; played bob-stones and told stories underground during the night; and slept during the heat of the day. Sometimes, as he watched his people feed, El-ahrairah would congratulate himself on how strong they were, and how fortunate they were to live in the fields of Sumara, and how clever he was to keep them safe from _elil_ and sickness. 

Yet by the time the moon had grown more than halfway from a thin sliver towards its full circle, El-ahrairah began to hear new grumbles among the bucks and does. It seemed they were afraid to visit many of the best places for cowslips and clover in the field. They complained that men were walking about—or, at least, for no one had seen any men, that every morning there was the scent of white sticks weaving through the grass around the places where the choicest plants grew, with here and there the end of a white stick itself, as if it had been thrown down by the man who had burned it in his mouth.

El-ahrairah went and looked for himself, smelling the trails of white sticks in the grass and finding one or two ends of white sticks, which he nosed at cautiously. The smell made him feel quite queasy and he found it hard to think clearly.

Leaving the white sticks behind, he went back to his hole and sat outside, looking out across the field, until he could think straight again. It really was most strange, he thought, that there were no other signs of men: no signs of grass that had been crushed under their feet or smell of dogs. Strange, too, that the white sticks and the smells came only in the night. Men did not usually walk the fields in the dark, or at least, not often. It was as if the white sticks had carried themselves to where they now lay.

El-ahrairah was quite sure that such a thing was not possible, so he decided to lay a trap. He made sure as many rabbits as he could speak to during the day knew there was a particularly delicious-looking patch of cowslips in a far corner of the field, and that he was planning an expedition there the next morning to eat his fill. But as soon as it grew dark, he set off for the corner of the field and hid himself where he could watch the cowslips. 

Nothing happened for a very long time and El-ahrairah almost fell asleep. The moon had disappeared behind a bank of clouds and it was almost too dark to make anything out more than a few feet away. Then, at last, just as El-ahrairah was wondering if he should go home and curl up in his nice warm burrow, he saw a shadowy figure emerge from the hedgerow. It was the shape and size of a rabbit, but it was surely no rabbit, for El-ahrairah could see by what little light there was that it carried a white stick in its mouth. El-ahrairah watched in astonishment as the creature began dragging the white stick round and round the patch of cowslips, making sure it brushed across the dew-sodden grass. Then the figure dropped the white stick and began to make its way back towards the hedgerow.

It had hardly hopped more than one or two steps when the moon sailed out from where it had been hiding behind the clouds and El-ahrairah saw that the creature was indeed a rabbit—but no rabbit he knew. Quick as a flash, El-ahrairah leaped from his hiding place towards the stranger. The other rabbit started at the sound, meeting El-ahrairah's gaze for one brief moment, before it turned and, with a powerful thrust of its hind legs, was through the hedgerow. When El-ahrairah followed a moment later, there was no sign of the strange rabbit, and El-ahrairah could not tell by nosing about which way he had gone.

Much annoyed, El-ahrairah returned to his hole to think. It seemed clear that there were no men walking the fields: no, the strange rabbit was entirely responsible for leaving the white sticks, though El-ahrairah could not imagine why. He also had a suspicion that the stranger might be the same rabbit who had been giving out orders in El-ahrairah's name a few days earlier.

Still trying to puzzle it out, El-ahrairah passed the word throughout the warren that, though they should be vigilant for other signs of men, the rabbits could safely ignore the white sticks and silflay where they would.

Though he spent the day pondering the matter, El-ahrairah was no nearer to understanding what was going when he emerged at first light the following morning to feed. Some of the rabbits were already out and spreading across the field; others followed El-ahrairah as he slowly moved across the grass, nibbling at the occasional patch of clover or rosette of dandelion leaves.

He was barely a quarter of the way across the field when he heard a stamping to his left, near the hedgerow. It was quickly picked up and repeated by another three or four rabbits. In a few moments, the field was deserted, the rabbits underground and safe. 

Loitering at the mouth of his hole to be sure everyone had made it, El-ahrairah scanned the hedgerow, looking for signs of whatever _elil_ had prompted the warning. Yet, though he watched carefully for many minutes, he could see no cause for alarm. At last, when the long shadows cast by the trees had shortened a paw's length, he gathered a few bucks and made his way over to the hedgerow. Casting around, they found only rabbit trails in the dew. Deciding it had been a false alarm, El-ahrairah sent one of the bucks back to the warren to tell everyone it was safe to feed again.

El-ahrairah kept watch for a while. After the shadows had shortened another paw's length and there was no further sign of trouble, he found a patch of clover near the hedgerow and set to sampling it. He had barely taken more than a couple of mouthfuls when there was a stamping on far side of the field from where the first alarm had been raised. 

Again, the rabbits dashed for cover. Again, when El-ahrairah waited at the mouth of his hole to discover the cause of the disturbance, he saw nothing.

This time, when he sent the rabbits back out to feed—most of them now reluctant to go far from their holes and startling nervously at every sound—he went round and tried to find the rabbits who had given the alarm. Several admitted to passing on the signal when they heard the stamping and saw another rabbit flash its tail, but none of them owned to being the first to spot the danger.

Even as El-ahrairah finished his questioning, there came a third alarm, from the hedgerow that faced the wood and the rabbit holes. Again the rabbits dashed for cover—all but El-ahrairah, who was growing very tired of the joke, not to mention rather hungry. He'd scarcely managed to eat anything so far thanks to the constant interruptions.

Running down the field as fast as he could, he caught sight of a rabbit stamping his hind legs and flashing his tail—a good-sized, well-fed buck whom El-ahrairah did not recognise but whom, he was quite sure, he _had_ seen before.

The rabbit turned, checking that El-ahrairah's people were all heading underground—and started when he saw El-ahrairah heading straight for him. He made to bound away, but El-ahrairah was faster, bowling into him before he could escape.

The two of them went over and over, rolling down the slight slope until they came to a stop. El-ahrairah sprang back, scuffling his paws in the grass as he and the stranger eyed each other.

"What are you waiting for, El-ahrairah," the stranger taunted. "Are you afraid? Will you slink back to your people while I tell them I defeated you with scarcely a blow?"

El-ahrairah realised the stranger was spoiling for a fight, and that there was no way for him to avoid it. Not waiting for the other to take the initiative, he leaped forward, intending to rake his claws across the stranger's face. The stranger was faster, pulling back so quickly that El-ahrairah's claws merely brushed through his whiskers. Before El-ahrairah was able to steady himself, the other had pushed off with his strong hind legs and knocked him sideways, landing with his weight across El-ahrairah.

El-ahrairah twisted underneath and sank his teeth into the stranger's shoulder, while he scrabbled to gain a purchase on the damp grass with his hind legs. As soon as he felt his feet pressed firmly against the ground, he stopped pushing. The stranger also relaxed, apparently thinking El-ahrairah's strength was spent. In that instant, El-ahrairah pushed upwards, hard and fast, forcing the stranger to rear on his hind legs until he fell over on his back.

El-ahrairah scrabbled clear, spitting out the mouthful of hair he had pulled out as his grip had been torn from the stranger shoulder. The stranger regained his feet, eyeing El-ahrairah with wary respect.

They were evenly matched, El-ahrairah saw, and it would be no easy matter to settle this with force. "Why are you causing trouble for my people?" he asked, seeking time to catch his breath and to think of a wrestling trick or two that might defeat the other.

The stranger bared his teeth. "To show them you are not worthy to be their Prince, El-ahrairah. And that your foolishness will lead them to disaster."

Watching closely for any sign the stranger was about to attack, El-ahrairah said carefully, "My people live well. They eat well. Our does bear many kittens. The _elil_ do not trouble them overmuch. Why should they think I lead them to disaster?"

"They eat well for now," the stranger sneered. "But what of next year, or the year after, oh Prince of Rabbits? Do you not recall, El-ahrairah, that you are not the only creature to receive Frith's Blessings? Do you not know what Blessing has Frith given to the bees?"

"The bees?" El-ahrairah looked at the stranger in astonishment, though he was now recalling Prince Rainbow had said something about bees last time they had met. It had not seemed very important at the time, though he was beginning to feel he should perhaps have paid closer attention.

"The blessing of the bees is that they may gather nectar from the flowers to feed themselves and their young," the stranger explained patiently. "In return, the bees must carry the pollen from flower to flower, so that there will be more plants each spring. But in the Fields of Sumara, the plants do not flower, because they are all eaten by the rabbits before the buds have opened. And so the bees can gather no nectar—and soon there will be no more plants. Then you and your rabbits will starve, oh mighty Prince."

El-ahrairah understood now that the stranger had been sent by Prince Rainbow, to teach him a lesson: to show him how the bees must feel. To show him, also—he remembered his boast—that he was perhaps not the cleverest rabbit after all, for the stranger had been quite clever enough to flummox and confuse him for several days. Clever enough that El-ahrairah did not want to face him again if Prince Rainbow decided another lesson was in order. 

At that thought, an idea began to sprout in El-ahrairah's mind, like a newly unfurling cowslip: an idea that would prove him the cleverest rabbit of all.

El-ahrairah adopted a less threatening stance, though he kept a close eye out for any further attack from the stranger. "My friend, the lesson is well-learned. You may tell Prince Rainbow so. But if I promise to Prince Rainbow that I will make sure I and my people share the fields of Sumara with the other creatures, what will become of you?"

The rabbit eyed El-ahrairah distrustfully. "I will carry your word to Prince Rainbow."

"And after that?" El-ahrairah pressed.

The stranger relaxed, settling back on his haunches a little. "Prince Rainbow may have some other task for me. Or perhaps I shall return to the land beyond the golden river of Frith." He sounded indifferent to his future.

El-ahrairah said slowly, as if the idea was new to him, "That sounds lonely. Would you rather not live in the fields of Sumara with other rabbits? Eat our fine clover and cowslips and dandelions? Though not too many, of course," he hastened to add. "Play in the sun? Choose a mate from among my does and raise a litter of fine kittens?"

He saw the stranger glance across to the far side of the field, where El-ahrairah's people were cautiously emerging from their holes and starting to feed again. Two bucks chased each other, before rolling each other over in mock fight. A sad look came into the stranger's eyes. "I must serve Prince Rainbow," he replied, looking back at El-ahrairah.

"You could serve me," El-ahrairah said quietly. "I have need of rabbits who are clever and strong. I have need of a rabbit at my side to help me keep my people safe—and to remind me, from time to time, that I am not always right. Will you not serve me, oh friend, and join my people?"

Again the rabbit looked across at El-ahrairah's people, living their comfortable contented lives together. He looked back to El-ahrairah. "I will serve you."

"Good!" El-ahrairah turned and began to lead the stranger across the field towards the warren, trying not to laugh at the thought of Prince Rainbow's face when he realised he was now facing _two_ clever rabbits, united together. He glanced across at the stranger. "And now we are friends, do you have a name, oh friend?"

The other rabbit stopped and sat back up and scented the air. "My name is Rabscuttle," he said, clearly distracted by some smell on the breeze. He looked across at El-ahrairah, his expression suddenly mischievous. "Do I smell a vegetable garden with... _flayrah_?"

**Author's Note:**

> Richard Adams himself acknowledges in the text that the stories about El-ahrairah make use of elements found in various human myths and legends. My story was inspired by events in the Sumerian _Epic of Gilgamesh_. After all, if you're going to steal, you should steal from the (oldest and) best. There's a nod to that inspiration in my choosing a mangled form of Sumer (perhaps mangled by 5000 years of rabbit culture) when naming the "Fields of Sumara".


End file.
